Chapter 50
It turns out we don’t need a map to find the conservatory. We simply follow the trail of bodies.
The hairs along my arms stand on end as Memnon, Nero and I pass dead and sometimes cannibalized fae. The silence is palpable, like something worse than the Bargainer’s shadows lurk in it.
Eventually, the bodies do end at the conservatory.
A haze of firelight from outside glitters down on the plants in here.
It should be a breathtaking space, but right now the air carries the iron tang of blood, and more bodies are strewn across the stone pathway.
There’s a narrow pathway that bisects the entire length of the conservatory, but the foliage is so dense that I only see a few individuals on the far end, beneath a domed glass ceiling.
But from somewhere beyond view, I can hear Eislyn’s terrible, lovely voice.
“…millennia I have moldered on that wretched plane. I bet you thought you were done with me, didn’t you?”
“I-I don’t know who you are.”
“I was Eislyn Alder, daughter of King Sable the Patient, the princess you once tended to.”
I hear someone’s slight inhalation.
“You remember now?” Eislyn says. “Do you remember how gleeful you were when I was captured? Sentenced? Banished? Because I do.”
Oh, this isn’t just a coup; this is Eislyn’s revenge tour.
“Two thousand years I’ve waited for this moment. Now to decide whether to kill you or banish you? Perhaps I shall maim you first—”
A shrill, agonized scream starts up.
I’m about to dash forward when Memnon grabs my upper arm and drags me into one of the aisles that branch off from the main walkway of the building.
Wait, Empress, he says down our bond, pulling me against him. His eyes are everywhere on me, and he spends a needless moment tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. He pauses to press his palm against my skin. “Form impenetrable armor for my mate,” he breathes.
His magic fans out across my skin, and I soften at the sight of it.
I press a hand to his chest and repeat the ward, exhaling at the sight of that protection he now wears.
Even after the wards have set, Memnon continues to hold me fast, all while that poor fae’s tortured screams rent the air.
Eislyn doesn’t know for certain that you’re alive or that you’re here, Memnon says down our bond. Let me go first.
We already tried that plan, I argue, and it ended badly.
But Memnon’s magic releases from his fingertips, fastening onto my limbs and rooting me in place. He presses the same spell into Nero’s fur, the traitor.
I flash him a betrayed look.
He pulls me in close. “Just give me two minutes,” he breathes into my ear. “That’s all I ask.”
But he’s not asking, and that’s the problem.
I glare at him, which only causes him to flash me a feral grin.
Give me that look later tonight when this is all over, est amage, and I will give you everything your mind can conjure—and a few things it cannot.
With that, Memnon backs away, then turns and withdraws a blade. He disappears from sight, lost in the maze of foliage, but I can hear his sure strides as he heads toward Eislyn.
A panicked, almost animalistic fear rises in me. I nearly lost Memnon minutes ago.
I shove against his magic, annoyed to find that it’s still powerful.
The sound of agonized cries dies out, and there’s an awful stretch of silence.
“That bond I placed on you was powerful.” Eislyn’s voice causes the back of my neck to prick. “Tell me how you outmaneuvered it?”
It’s quiet for a moment. Then Memnon’s wrathful voice rings out. “You turned my people on me, set the enemy upon my kingdom, you killed my family and my wife, and you murdered the child that was in her belly.
“And you did it all again in this life. You tormented my wife, then set me upon her.” His voice breaks, like the memory haunts him even now. “All of it for this?” He laughs, the sound hollow.
“Memnon,” Eislyn says derisively. “You have received what few other mortals have, immortality—”
“Fuck your immortality.”
She sighs. “Incapacitate him,” she commands someone. “But,” she adds, “do not kill him—” Her words end in a choked cry.
I yank against Memnon’s spell as war cries and shouts ring out. Just how many people are in this room?
It takes an eternity and a half for me to remember that Memnon’s magic will undo itself if I tinker with it. Why? How? A mystery, but I crouch and bring my hand to my ankles, where I can see the faint shimmer of it holding my feet in place.
Gently, I stroke his magic, trying to keep my panic down.
I swear I live lifetimes in the time it takes for his power to pull away from the ground and consider my fingers an adequate alternative.
I don’t have time to wonder about why the hue of his magic is lighter before it crawls up my fingertips and dissolves away.
There are scuffling sounds, and Memnon’s roar of fury as I reach for Nero and coax away Memnon’s spell from his paws.
And then we’re free. I hear screams as throats and hearts are ripped out, and however many people I assumed were in this room before, there’s more.
I sprint toward the noise. At the far end of the room, a battle rages.
There must be more than a dozen individuals, and I cannot tell which ones are fighting for Eislyn and which are battling against her.
Amongst them I catch sight of Memnon and his power.
I see the flash of his dagger, and across our bond, I feel the rush in his blood.
His eyes rise to mine just as his opponent breaks away. Two demons grab him by either arm and drag him back.
Stop her! Memnon shouts down our bond.
My eyes move to his target. Eislyn stumbles up the walkway. She wears battle leathers that fit close to her body and a sheathed sword at her side. For once, she looks like a warrior, her pale hair plaited away from her face.
That’s not what shocks me most, however. Because Eislyn’s hand grips her bloody stomach where Memnon’s dagger protrudes.
The sight of untouchable Eislyn bleeding shakes me to my core. Even she, who has had centuries to plot out all her deepest desires, is fallible.
Her ancient gaze rises, then meets mine. A spark of disbelief flashes in those eyes, and she stumbles. And again, I am thrown by how very vulnerable and human she appears right now when she’s always ever been composed.
I recover first.
Magic floods down my arm and I raise my hand. “Annihilate.”
Eislyn ducks, then falls, and my spell careens across the conservatory before—
BOOM!
A portion of the glass structure blows out sending shards out into the night.
She doesn’t incant her spell, but I see the iridescent sphere of it rush toward me. I’ve known that the fairy wielded power, but never have we fought like this.
Nero and I dive out of the way, and her magic hits a monstera plant behind me, sizzling away the waxy leaves.
Holy balls, that was too close.
I place a hand on Nero. “Impenetrable armor for your body,” I incant.
My magic strains to gather before it rushes out. It’s an awful reminder that it does in fact have limits, and I’m approaching them.
Despite the growing fatigue, I press a hand to my own chest and ward myself again.
A split second after I finish warding myself, power slams into me, knocking me into the still sizzling monstera plant.
I grunt against the hit. The spell hisses against my chest, but my ward holds fast, thank the Goddess.
Across the way, Eislyn drags herself up.
Oh no. Not today, Satan.
“Annihilate.” I throw the spell as hard as I can.
It cuts through the air so rapidly that Eislyn is forced to drop to the ground again, and the action must shove that blade deeper into her stomach because she lets out a tormented scream.
The spell hits the tropical trees behind her and blows them apart.
Branches of a plumeria tree, fronds from a nearby palm, and thick clumps of dirt careen in all directions, the largest of them shattering glass.
Around us, the conservatory lets out an ominous groan, and a few sheets of glass fall from the ceiling, shattering against the ground.
Something heavy slams into my head. My legs fold, and the world goes dark.